Saudi Arabia is perched on a shaky precipice. There are those who wish to cling to the old ways of polygamy, male-dominated society and absolute theocracy. And yet there are even more who seek a permanent change and an end to the gender divide that has long alienated the Western world from the Kingdom.
To appreciate the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia without loathing, one must be sensitive enough to the culture to understand its deeply rooted practices and traditions without condemning its progress.
Change is swiftly arriving on the wings of the up-and-coming generation of Saudis. I left for Saudi Arabia on Dec. 28, 2012, and returned to the United States on Jan. 8.
Three days later, the country's monarch, King Abdullah, made the announcement that 30 women had been granted seats on the prestigious Majlis al-Shura: a first in the history of the country.
Misogynistic attitudes will always exist in Saudi Arabia, just as racism will always exist to a degree in America. The important thing to note is that these deeply ingrained attitudes are changing.
To realize the Kingdom is no longer stagnant and motionless is to stretch one's mind past its confines of skepticism and disdain. To remain dutiful citizens of the world, we must remain open without resentment, especially when perceiving the cultures of the Islamic Middle East.
Picture a camel in your head. Imagine a roughly hewn desert road, camels and nomadic tents on the right and civilization on the left. This strange landscape is exactly what I saw on the one-hour bus ride from Dammam to Jubail City.
Jubail was built off of the coast and out of the desert in order to capitalize upon its abundant oil resources. It's quite the lovely town, with Greco-Roman arches dotting the beach walkways, pleasantly ordered apartment complexes studding the streets, and a quaint downtown equipped with plenty of shopping centers and restaurants.
We arrived at our destination, the Royal Commission of Jubail City, and were immediately greeted with handshakes and "how do you do?"s A silent, yet welcoming guide escorted us to a plush, ornate parlor where we were served Arabic coffee laced with fragrant cardamom and the tastiest sweet dates dripping in honey.
After numerous, lengthy introductions, we were entertained by a video detailing the legacy of Jubail City, complete with dramatic American movie music and a Morgan Freeman-like narrator.
"King Fahd—mayAllahguideandprotectHissoul—commissioned the project of Jubail City during his time on the throne," the Morgan Freeman voice said.
I found it profoundly humorous to hear these strange Islamic witticisms dictated in the deep, gravelly voice of an American male.
"The construction of the City was observed and blessed by the Prophet Muhammad, peacebeuponhim."
I snorted into my tiny cup of coffee and made the mistake of exchanging glances with my friends, which made us giggle all the more violently. The episode somehow remained unnoticed and the group boarded a charter bus for a tour of the city.
An official from the Royal Commission tagged along and took it upon himself to narrate the scenery as we drove by. I noticed right away that he was a proud man, slight and confident, with a limp in his left leg.
Proclaiming the sights of Jubail seemed to give him immense pleasure.
"Don't close your eyes!" he said jovially.
I had closed them for a second as I'd inhaled a lengthy yawn.
"Don't fall asleep!"
Shannon had only just leaned her head against the window and was taking in the picturesque town.
"Take off your sunglasses so I know you're not napping."
I chuckled. Khadijah was definitely snoozing in the back seat behind the opaque lenses of her Ray-Bans.
Something within him was desperate for our attention, our approval. I wondered if his peers didn't respect him or if he simply enjoyed exercising his occupational power.
He was a wealthy man, married with two children, and had studied in the United States. He looked me in the eyes when he spoke to me, despite my being a woman.
We engaged him in conversation, asking about the females of Jubail. They were not allowed to drive, he said, nor did he think they ever would.
"What kind of jobs do women have around here?" we asked.
"Well, the women of Jubail have the most noble of jobs," he replied. "They work as mothers, raising their children and teaching them. Women do not work alongside men. They are afraid—I am afraid—that if they come into the office to work, they will become pregnant!"
I reeled on the inside. How could this well-educated man display such a narrow-minded view?
"Yeah. Because that's what I think to myself every time I go to work," whispered Lauren, rolling her eyes. "'Better be careful. I might get pregnant today!'"
"I'm sorry?" he asked. "I didn't quite catch that."
"Who can swim at this part of the beach?" Mandie interjected.
She pointed to a glassy expanse of the Arabian Gulf, surrounded by stark white sand peppered with leafy green palm trees.
"Oh, this beach! Isn't it beautiful?" the man said. "Everyone can swim here!"
He threw his red and white-checkered headdress over his shoulder.
"Except for women."
He adjusted the hem of his thobe — a white ankle-length garment — so that it rested tidily against his calves.
"And children."
He laughed boisterously and confidently, not aware of the impact his statements had made.
Everyone can swim here? Who is everyone? I didn't know whether to laugh or be offended.
In the end, I turned towards the window of the bus and gazed out into the sunlit desert. I wondered what it would be like to be this man's wife. Something told me I wouldn't like it very much.
The man babbled on about the various factories and buildings that were calmly drifting by on the other side of the wide, dusty windows.
He told us about his car accident of a few years ago and that it had given him his limp. Drawing up the well-tailored hem of his thobe, he showed us a five-inch scar, still as shiny and pink as the day it had healed.
I stared at this man's leg and pondered upon the strangeness of it all. Here was a successful Saudi Arabian businessman, poised enough to carry on a conversation with me, yet backwards enough to think that the role of women lies within the home.
He and his rolled-up thobe straddled the line of Wahhabism and feminism, and I'm still unsure if he'll ever choose between the two.
When people come to India and claim to have fallen in love with its culture does it make India perfect, does it take away the issues we face? If someone does the same with Saudi culture does that mean that you need to jump up and down and start posting on everything that you and others may find problematic about KSA and its people? Grow up yaaron or better yet visit the Gulf nations.
